Lying           
           In   My   Room,          
  Arms Flopped Over The Edge Of The Bed. 
      Something Poking  My Left  Hand, 
                 Something      Slimy, 
      Slithering  Around  The Fingers, 
          Up   The   Arm.           
 Is  It   Drug-Fueled  Apathy?         
         I   Don'T   Move   The   Arm. 
                                 
 Whatever It  Is That'S Tasting Me,    
 It   Moves   Further   Up,            
 Reaches    The    Armpit.             
 I  Turn  My  Head  Toward   It.       
             Looks   Like    Seagrass. 
          It'S  Kinda  Cute.        
                                 
      Once  It'S  Up My Neck And On My 
 Face,    I    Bite    It.             
     The  Texture Is  Like That  Of  A 
 Juicy                          Grape, 
     And The  Squish Tastes Like Sweet 
                      Cucumber.    
     It'S Very Good.    And I    
 Suck    More   Of   It   In.          
             Chew   It.             
    The Seagrass Doesn'T Seem To Mind. 
                                 
      Apathy  Gone,  I   Sit  Up.     
    The  Tendrils Are  Stuck Under    
    My Shirt,     Entering By The Arm 
 And  Exiting  Through The  Collar.     
    This  Makes It Hard For Me  To Push 
 More   Of   It  In   My   Mouth.       
   I Make To Remove The Shirt,  But The 
 Seagrass Finally Protests When I  Try To 
 Move    My     Left     Arm.           
     So  -   Eating   It  Is  Ok,     
        Moving It  Is  Not.